Slowly losing the war
by GoxDinosaur
Summary: The final note had been played, the final word sung, the final beat clapped. Everyone roared into a mess of applause. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with air, a grin spread across my over-enthusiastic face. Troypay!
1. Bottle it up!

_The final note had been played, the final word sung, the final beat clapped. Everyone roared into a mess of applause. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with air, a grin spread across my over-enthusiastic face. Sometimes I questioned how anyone could call me an 'outstanding performer'. My actions always seem so fake and over-exaggerated to me. But I loved it. Performing that is. Troy Bolton grabbed my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine. I stole a glance in his direction and saw every emotion on his face light up. I grinned bigger. He had that kind of ever-lasting hold on me, and he didn't even know it. Ryan was on my opposite side; he grabbed my hand as well, and mouthed 'one-one-hundred, two-one-hundred, three-one-hundred...' while we all bowed. The curtains closed quickly, and everyone around me began to disperse, to the exception of Troy._

"_Hey," I muttered, smiling softly up at him._

"_Hey," he said, returning the smile._

"_Great job, really." I fiddled nervously with my sleeves, "I mean, I didn't know you were such a good-"_

_He cut me off with his lips, and for once I was completely taken aback by someone interrupting me. He pulled away, looking me dead in the eyes._

"_Troy, I love you!" I half yelled._

"_I..." He trailed off, "need you to wake up."_

"_What?" I stammered, "No. No, not again! God damn it, no!" I was shouting now, and my dreams were fading into reality._

My eyes shot open. The room was being flooded with the enthusiastic voice of 'The Rocket Summer'. I sighed. There was a gentle knock on my door.

"You up?" my other, more sensitive half called to me.

"Unfortunately..." I muttered, just loud enough for his ears.

"Dreaming about Troy again, Shar?" Ryan teased me.

"Yes..." I groaned.

"Someday, it'll happen," his voice echoed down our elegant hallway. Not in a mocking way, but in an understanding way. Ryan was one of the few people who really understood me, even though I was pretty hard on him.

"The mean thoughts and cheap shot, they will not weaken me." The Rocket Summer rang.

I nodded solemnly to myself, "Exactly."

I sauntered down the hall, following Ry into the bathroom. He was standing at his assigned sink (it even said 'Ryan Evans' on the top in lights), pulling a brush through his hair. I kissed him on the cheek, giving him a loving squeeze. He was one of the only two people who saw this side of me. I stood at my mirror, sizing myself up. There wasn't much to work with. My straw-colored hair hung to my shoulders in a messy nest, and my too-tight shirt accented the holiday weight I'd gained last week. I sighed, staring over at Ryan. He most certainly got the better half of our genes. Looking back to my mirror, I grabbed my hot pink mesh bag, and fished out my foundation, my eyeliner, my lip gloss, my mascara, my eye shadow, and my cover-up. I began plucking, curling, and applying, using all of the tools laid before me. Roughly five minutes later, I figured my make-up was done, so I moved on to my mess of hair. I stole Ryan's brush and yanked it through my hair, releasing a small yelp. I pulled a bobby pin from my bag and pulled my bang over to the side of my face, pinning it there. I concealed it all with an unnatural amount of hairspray. Another five minutes passed slowly.

"Perf," I said, gushing bubbles, puppies, and rainbows. The act was officially on. "Oh, Ry, that shirt is _not_ going to work."

"Oh, sorry..." he trailed off, running like a scared puppy all the way back into his bedroom. Yes, the act was most certainly on.

I walked, head held high, from the bathroom to my closet, where my stylist was waiting.

"Pierre," I spewed, rushing forward to give him a kiss on each cheek.

"Sharpay," he replied in a very sensible way. He held up an array of outfits, but only one popped out, mostly because it didn't look incredulously uncomfortable. I chose a black baby doll dress with a pair of red tights and a pair of velvet black ballet flats. Nothing was too matchy-matchy.

"Ry!" I called, but Ryan was already standing in the door way, grasping the outfit which Pierre had matched with mine.

Only a moments notice later, Ryan emerged looking stunning.

"Fabulous," I stated, softly tugging Ryan by the arm, down the stairs. He casually grabbed both of our bags, handing me mine in a very servant-esc way. We chatted about today's activities; play practice, dress fitting with Pierre (for me, of course), mother's rehearsal dinner with her third husband this year, food tasting. The day was packed.

We pulled up to East High; I tossed my keys into my bag, squared my shoulders, and prepared my part of the deal for action. Head held high, I strutted through the wide open doors, alone. Ryan had probably ditched me when he caught sight of his new found girlfriend; Gabriella Montez. Troy Bolton appeared at my side; alone, as I had hoped.

"Good day, m'lady," He bowed.

"Ello govna'," I said, enthusiastically playing along. He stopped walking, as did I, and he turned to me.

"So, listen, you, me, Ry, and Gabriella should go do something tonight," he offered. I knew he was merely being friendly, but my heart involuntarily skipped a beat.

"I'd love to, we'd love to," and then I remembered all of our plans. Mr. Four could wait, right? No, of course not. Mother wouldn't have it, nor would Ryan. "But we promised to do some stuff for mom and mystery husband number four tonight."

"Another one?" Troy raised his eyebrows at me.

"Another one." I confirmed.

"That's okay, I'll tag along. Just make sure Ryan brings Gabriella" He said. Did I forget to mention that Troy is head-over-heels for my twin brother's girlfriend? That might be a little important.

"That'd be great..." I trailed off. A few of Troy's buddies had joined our conversation, "Bolton."

Troy chuckled softly to himself, leaning in to whisper something in my ear.

"You know, Sharpay, one day you'll slip up and the whole world will see you for what you really are; nice."

And with that, he left me, running like a madman down the hallway with his friends and his teammates.

"I will not!" I yelled after him, but he only glanced back, an obviously pleased smirk plastered to his face.

Boys are stupid. Troy is stupid. Love is stupid. It's stupid that I'm completely in love with him, and he doesn't even know it.


	2. Just call me Ishmael!

The final school bell rang, but Mr. Gluz (how awkward can one name be, right?) was in the middle of his ever-lasting lecture about hexagons. He tried to draw one on the board earlier, but I figure he has Tourette syndromeor something, because it certainly was _not_ a hexagon. Despite my understanding nature, I muttered 'my ass' and got myself kicked out of class. What a reb. Ryan gave me a disapproving look as I gathered my things into my bag and walked out of class. And there I sat, on the tiny desk next to the door, arms crossed sassily. I stared at the empty space before me. No fun. I was supposed to wait for Ryan outside of the classroom (it was just good nature) but I caught a glimpse of Troy...and Gabriella. Together.

That was odd. My brows knit, and I gathered my things. Chasing them down would be harder than anticipated; there was a river of end-of-the-day kids milling around the hallway.

"Move!" I said. My voice was harsh, intimidating. And they moved out of fear. I finally caught up to Troy and Gabriella, and I instantly tuned out the rest of the world.

"...well, you know me better than anyone else." Gabriella giggled. I twisted my face into a mock frown, mouthing her words.

"Exactly," Troy agreed, grinning, "So, uh, we're hanging out tonight, right?"

A small crinkle formed between Gabriella's eyebrows, "I was supposed to hang out with Ryan, but I guess I could cancel...for you." She cooed, Troy grinned. My jaw dropped and my eyes bulged. I'm positive that I must have gasped, because both turned to look at me.

"Wow. Some girlfriend," I scoffed, brushing past both of them towards my locker. Gabriella whispered nervously behind me.

"I'll fix it, don't worry." Troy whispered to her, chasing after me. "Hey! Hey Sharpay," He cried out.

"Save it, Bolton!" I yelled at him, shaking my head from side to side. If he thought he was stopping me, he was sadly mistaken. I hadn't ever been angrier, or more disappointed. I yanked open my light pink locker violently.

"Hey, be reasonable." Troy suggested softly, in a very convincing voice.

"I think I'm being pretty _fucking_ reasonable, actually!" I snapped back. "Don't waste your breath, I mean it."

And with that I slammed my locker closed and stomped down the hallway. Ryan emerged from the classroom, glancing around for me. At first, when he saw me, his face lit up, but then he must have noticed that I had my angry face on. I grabbed him by the arm without a word.

"Shar," He started, with a questioning look. "Whoa!"

"I need to talk to you." I muttered, pulling him by the arm through the school, towards the front entrance.

"Okay, okay! Release the talons, you're tearing skin!"

I glanced down to see that my perfectly manicured nails were in fact digging into his skin.

"Sorry..." I muttered sullenly. Before I knew it, I had dragged by brother all the way to the car. "Ryan, listen. I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to come out with it..."

He stared at me blankly, impatiently waiting for the rest. "So...?"

"Ry..." But how could I say it? 'Oh, hey baby brother. You know that girl you're so in love with? Oh yeah, well, she's hunting my man.' Yeah, that'd spare his emotions.

"Shar..." He mimicked.

"Ryan, Gabriella is..."

"Gabriella is...?"

"She's just being all flirty and relationshipy with Troy! And it's not in your best interest to be dating her, okay?" Should I even have told him that? He breaks up with Gabriella, Gabriella goes for Troy, and Troy goes for Gabriella. Evans twins sit alone at lunch with the drama club.

"Ry, I'm so sorry..." But much to my surprise, there was a very amused smirk on his face.

"You know, she told me that you'd say that." He patted my back sympathetically.

I choked on my words, on the air. I just choked.

"Whoa! Hold on a second! You don't believe me?!"

"Shar, don't take it personally."

"Hello? You've seen these movies before Ryan! You don't trust me, we argue, in the end I'm right..."

He rolled his eyes at me. "I'm sorry! I forgot that Sharpay is always right." He stated sarcastically.

"I never said that!" I yelled.

"You meant to!" He yelled back.

"You know what, Ryan? Fuck you. Have your girlfriend drive you home! No, you know what? Don't even come home." I pulled open the car door with too much force, and slammed it; hard. I jammed the keys into the ignition, and shifted the gear into reverse.

"I hate you." He told me, his face blank and emotional; his voice hard and cold.

"Likewise," I retorted, backing out of the parking lot. And then I was gone.


	3. Narcissistic and mean!

I reached the freeway, and for once, I was glad I had a convertible. I grabbed a hair tie from my passenger seat, pulling my blond hair back into a messy ponytail. So Ryan didn't believe me, who cares? I do. But wasn't he supposed to be the understanding one? Yes. Wasn't I supposed to be the bitch? Yes. We never discussed a character change. We always consult each other...with everything! Why did we even make these plans? So slutty Gabriella Montez could waltz into our lives and mess everything up? No! Ryan and I had everything wired _tight_.

My phone buzzed. My heart was beating a million miles an hour.

"Hold on, there's a hole in my heart, everyone can see right through me..."

I glanced around nervously. I wasn't sure if I wanted to look or not.

"It goes all the way to the west, where my love, she tried to wash it away..."

I reached down, and pulled the phone from my Chloe bag.

"See, she waits for the summer so she can find lovers. She thinks that they are bottles of wine..."

I cleared my throat and glanced at the number. Ryan's stupid grinning face was flashing on the screen.

"They'll make you dinner and they'll sing you to sleep, but by the morning find that the bottle is empty..."

Life's too short to hold a grudge anyways, right? But it couldn't be bad for him to feel a little guilty.

"Cause she never give it the time, every bottle she finds..."

I flipped open the phone.

"What?" I snapped, turning onto our street, just four houses from my own.

"...Sharpay?"

"Oh...Well, I don't want to talk to you, either."

"Either?"

"Bye, Troy."

And then I hung up. How very self-righteous of me.

I pulled into the driveway, putting the car in park, and removing the keys. A bath, that'd be really nice. My entire body uncoiled at the simple idea of it. Just a few steps away from my heaven, I moved quickly, avoiding anyone who could get in my way. I sprinted up the stairs and opened the door. No one was there. Oh, thank you, God.

I began to fill the bathtub with warm water, while pulling the blinds, and reaching for two or three of the scented candles that I kept in the bathroom under the sink. I added a few (okay, more than a few) drops of bubble bath into the still progressing bath water. Finally, I closed the door, turned off the lights and lit the candles, stripping off every mark of this bad day from my body. I sank quickly into the water, closing my eyes, and smiling for the first time today.

"Sharpay, darling?" My mother was calling out to me. No. No, no, no. I don't even care about husband number four. I. Don't. Care. She could go find Ryan and make him go. Well, he would have to go anyways, it'd be the same; minus the Sharpay.

"What?" I groaned. I sudden headache came rushing at me. My mother's persistent, whiney voice sounded like nails on a chalk board.

"Come on, darling. We have to pick out your bridesmaid dress!" She shrieked in that horrid, preppy voice of her.

"No." I replied.

"...I'm sorry?" My mother wasn't used to refusal. Ry and I tried to throw some pity in our mother's direction, all things considered. Our dad was never much of a dad, not to mention that he was hitting his secretary...and the mailman. You heard me, mail_man_. But that's old news.

_I hate you._

Ryan hadn't meant it!

_You know, she told me you'd say that._

He trusted me! He _trusts_ me!

...right?

Apparently I hadn't been breathing regularly, because my lungs were screaming for air. I heaved in air, chocking and gasping. So much for my relaxing bath...

I sighed, "Coming, mother."


	4. Your secret's out!

I reached the freeway, and for once, I was glad I had a convertible

It was almost impossible to pull myself away from the hot water in which I was immersed, but I had to take action before my mother had a hernia. I pulled a fluffy pink towel from its rack, wrapping it around my body as I stood. The water, the bubbles, and every relaxing thought that had ever ran through my head today, decreased slowly, slipping down the drain. My muscles instantly began to twitch as I wrapped the towel around every part of my body in a flash. There was really no need to do anything with my hair; my mother's stylists would wash and style it, anyways. I felt myself wincing as I pulled on a skimpy jean skirt, black flip-flops, and a loose black 'Meg and Dia' t-shirt.

"Sharpay, sweetie," My mother's sickly sweet voice came pounding through the door. My headache resurfaced, double this time. "Come on, hun. We're about ready to leave."

I pulled open the bathroom door in response. My mother glanced at my outfit, grimacing.

"What?" I growled.

"Well, nothing, I suppose," She threw me another look of disapproval, before turning on her heel to stomp towards the stairs.

Then something hit me. _Come on, hun. _We're_ about ready to leave._

We...?

"Oh, dear god, please, no," I muttered, my eyes wide, the slight irritation masked on my casually troubled face.

"What, Sharpay? We need to leave." My mother had a small crinkle forming in between her eyebrows.

"As in you, me, and...?"

"Well, Ryan, of course."

I groaned, on the verge of tears. I hated this woman much, much more than usual. She had grown rather impatient, however, so instead of urging me on, she simply grabbed my arm and dragged me with all her might to the car. There he was, leaning agenst the car, all cocky.

All of a sudden that stupid, slutty Gabriella Montez came out of no where, wrapping her arms around his torso. She snickered in my general direction, leaning into Ryan, whom was still resting on the car.

"Is that really necessary?" I asked my mother, pointing towards the _adorable_ couple.

"What? You and Ryan _love_ shopping with me." She replied.

I snorted, I really couldn't help it. The hurt caked onto her gracefully aged face. My poor mother, this wasn't her fault. I exhaled a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry, mom. Let's go." I muttered, trying to cut my mother some slack. How bad can one shopping trip be, right?

"Yeah, let's go."

...Oh no. No, no, no.

There was a warm sort of pressure wounding around my hips. Did Troy really just snake his _fucking_ arm around me?

"Don't touch me." I snapped, pulling away, and sliding into the car.

"Sharpay, be good."

"...I _hate_ you." I muttered, only loud enough for my own ears.


End file.
